Neville Longbottom Book 1: The Philosopher's Stone
by quickassilver
Summary: Books1-7Neville L.is The Boy Who Lived.That's right, in this fanfiction it is Neville who Voldemort perceived as the threat to his power.He kills Neville's parents Frank and Alice Longbottom on 30 July, 1980. Neville's first birthday. Neville is now 11...
1. Chapter 1: Birthday Surprises

Neville Longbottom

Fanfiction HP Years 1-7

Book 1: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 1: Birthday Surprises

Neville Longbottom woke up on July 30, 1991 with a feeling of anticipation. He was a slightly pudgy boy, not fat but not skinny either. His hair was blond as well and he had blue eyes; he was only four feet ten inches tall despite being eleven years old. He also has very bucked teeth. In all appearances he looked to be a normal boy, except for a scar on his forehead. But Neville tried not to think about that scar because it reminded him of things that are better not to think of too often.

Today was his eleventh birthday, and eleventh birthdays are very special for young witches and wizards. You see, in the world of wizards that is when children begin their schooling. He suspected that today would be the day he got his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It would provide him with the list of supplies he would need to purchase for the year as well as telling him that the train would be leaving from platform nine and three quarters at precisely eleven in the morning September 1st. As all wizards know, Hogwarts is the best school if you want to get a proper education. That is where nearly all the wizards are educated, even though there are other schools available.

On his way down to breakfast he glimpsed the scar on his forehead while passing the mirror in his room. It was not a regular scar; he acquired it when he was attacked by a dark wizard with a killing curse. Yet instead of dying he was left with the scar that was shaped like a jagged bolt of lightning. Not even the same color as most scars, it stood out black on his forehead. Stock still, he remembered that today was not just his birthday. It was the anniversary of both his parent's deaths. The reason he lived with his grandmother. Deep down he felt the longing for his parents that he always had. He did not remember them since he was only one year old when they were killed. Although, he did have a dream that he thought could be a memory of his first birthday. Some nights he woke up from a nightmare of a high-pitched male voice laughing before a flash of green light illuminated the room. A woman was screaming at the top of her lungs and then there was silence, one of those silences that is too deathly quiet, like the lack of sound is in and of itself evil.

On 30 July, 1981 both of his parents were murdered because an evil wizard commonly referred to as He-who-must-not-be-named or You-know-who. Witches and wizards are still too scared to speak his name despite the fact that he has been missing for ten years and some believe him to be dead. The name the evil wizard chose was Lord Voldemort, but the only person who ever called him that was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. Birthdays had always been a bitter-sweet experience for Neville because it reminded him of his dead parents.

He got up his courage however and opened his bedroom door to go down to breakfast. Neville knew that he needed to be brave; it was just as hard on his grandmother as it was on him. She always told him that when he thought about his deceased parents he needed to remember that the past is past and cannot be changed. She also said that his parents were both Gryffindors, and she was too when she was at Hogwarts. "Neville, if Gryffindors are known for anything it is bravery. You are just as brave as your parents were. It takes a different type of courage to lose loved ones and continue on, knowing they aren't there. But that does not diminish the fact that it takes just as much courage as slaying a dragon would in its own way."

"Neville!" his grandmother yelled at the bottom of the stairs. "Breakfast is ready. Happy eleventh birthday. I've got something here for you at the table."

"Coming, Grandma!" he yelled back. If you have ever seen an eleven year old boy on his birthday, you know what I am about to describe. The pure excitement and anticipation is just oozing out of him. He can't wait to see what is on that table. He wondered if it was the letter from Hogwarts, or if it was a birthday present. And of course once he thinks about the words birthday present he starts wondering what his grandmother had gotten him. Could it be a new broom? Or an owl, that would be very useful for communicating with her when he went off to Hogwarts. Well, he hurried down the stairs as fast as he could so he could find out what was on that table.

"Good morning grandma." he said as he pulled out his chair and sat down in his usual seat. The room smelled of bacon and eggs and just then a sharp tapping could be heard on the window pane. There was a small package on the table waiting for him and a warm breakfast, but that tapping was what Neville had really been hoping to hear. It was the sound of a beak tapping against the glass of the window. He jumped out of his said and ran to the window. A dark brown owl with golden eyes was at the window with a letter attached to its left leg. He threw open the window and let the owl into the room. Quickly untying the letter that was attached with a piece of red ribbon, he scanned that side of the letter that was facing towards him. Sure enough, the Hogwarts school crest was there. It was his acceptance letter!

"Morning to you too. Now before you open that letter I want you to sit down and eat your breakfast. The letter can wait, but the food is hot now." she told him sternly. Neville Longbottom's grandmother has a very distinctive look shall we say. It is difficult to find a word to describe an outfit that consists of a hat with a stuffed vulture on top and a bright red handbag. She has a gray shawl wrapped around her shoulders, plain black dress slacks, and a black sweater underneath the shawl. Augusta Longbottom is thin and bony, but she has certain toughness about her even though she is old. Anybody could tell you even if they had just met her, that she is a formidable person.

As his grandmother was telling him to sit down and eat his breakfast Neville was ripping open the letter. He had untied the ribbon that kept the letter attached to the owl's leg and the dark brown owl flew off into the morning sun. He had just opened the wax seal on the letter and was about to pull it out when he heard the words letter can wait and food is hot now. Reluctantly, he set the letter down on the counter and went to the table to eat his breakfast. "Yes, grandmother." he replied.

Neville wolfed down the delicious eggs and bacon breakfast and then drained his glass of milk in 4 gulps. He dabbed away his milk mustache with his napkin and then ran over to the counter and snatched the letter. The letter was addressed to Neville personally. Then he turned the letter over and grabbed the parchment that was inside. It was addressed to him by deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall, who was also the Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts. In summation, it said that he had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was to board the Hogwarts Express sometime before eleven o'clock on the first of September.

He looked in the envelope again and saw the parchment that had his list of books and supplies to acquire and bring with him on the train. He would need:

UNIFORM:  
>First year students will require:<br>Three sets of plain works robes (black)  
>One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear<br>One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
>One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)<p>

Please note that all pupils= clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS  
>All students should have a copy of each of the following:<p>

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
>A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot<br>Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
>A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch<br>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
>Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger<br>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection<p>

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
>1 wand<br>1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
>1 set glass or crystal phials<br>1 telescope  
>1 set brass scales<p>

Students may also being an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

He gave the list to his grandmother and said excitedly, "I got accepted into Hogwarts. Here is the list of supplies I will need for the year. It has the uniform, books, wand, and everything else I'm going to need. I am already getting excited about finally going to Hogwarts." Augusta Longbottom scanned the list and then put it in her red handbag.

"Yes, starting at Hogwarts is a very exciting thing. We will need to go to Diagon Alley to buy all of your things. Your birthday present is on the table. Hopefully it will come in handy." Augusta Longbottom said. You could tell from the look in her eyes that she was happy for Neville. Being at Hogwarts was one of the best experiences of her life. A truly magical place.

"Thanks, Grandma. I had completely forgotten about the present on the table." he said with a smile. He untied the ribbon, ripped off the wrapping paper, and quickly opened the box. Inside was a glass ball that looked like it was filled with a white smoke. "What is it?" he asked.

"That is a remembrall. The smoke turns from red to white whenever you have forgotten something. Since you are going to be at Hogwarts, I thought it would be useful to make sure you didn't leave anything on the train or somewhere along the way. If you have that out then you shouldn't lose too many things." his grandmother explained.

"That's amazing! Thanks a million." Neville exclaimed. He ran up to his grandmother and gave her a big hug. "So when are we going to go to Diagon Alley to get all my school things?" he asked.

"I am thinking the second weekend in august. This coming week I am going to be too busy to take you there." she replied.

"Okay. I can't wait to get all my supplies. Do you think I could get an owl?" Neville asked.

"Hmm, I'll think about it." she said.

"Alright, thank you for breakfast and the remembrall. I am going to head up to my room for a while." he said.

"Sounds fine. I will be down here if you need me. Happy eleventh birthday!" she yelled.

"See you later." Neville said. Then he raced up the stairs to his room. He was going to get some more sleep. Though he woke up at the regular time, he was just a bit tired. For no reason at all that he could tell. Yet he was tired nevertheless. He drew the drapes over his window and drifted off into the land of dreams…


	2. Chapter 2: The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 2: The Boy Who Lived

Today was 10, August, 1991, and Neville Longbottom was going to Diagon Alley in London! He had to wait almost two whole weeks since he got his acceptance letter and he had thought the waiting was going to kill him. But it was finally here, his grandmother was taking him to get his uniform, course books, cauldron, potions supplies, and the rest of the school supply list. As soon as he started carrying around the things he would need to attend Hogwarts he knew that it would feel more real. It is one thing to get a letter saying you are accepted at a school, and then buying the uniform and books to go to that school. Now he would have something tangible to remind him that if he wasn't actually going to Hogwarts he would not have the entire school supply list.

As he was pulling on his jeans Neville heard his grandmother's voice float up the stairs. "Get up Neville; we need to be leaving for Diagon Alley in twenty minutes on the dot." Augusta Longbottom's voice projected well for her age, it didn't have the breathy or weak sound that many people her age had. He snapped the button on his jeans and pulled up the zipper. Found a pair of plain white socks, put those on, and then grabbed a crimson t-shirt from his drawer. The only thing on the crimson sweater was the emblem of a golden lion in one corner. It was the house crest of Gryffindor, where Neville was hoping to be sorted to.

"Coming, grandma!" he yelled back. Then he located his money that he always kept in his sock drawer in the very back left corner of the drawer. Neville knew that he would probably find something in Diagon Alley that he might want to purchase for himself other than the school supplies. So, he grabbed two heavy gold Galleons, ten silver Sickles, and twelve little bronze Knuts then stuffed it deep into his right hand pocket. There, that should be enough for whatever he wanted to get.

He threw open his bedroom door and ran down the stairs two at a time. Being short on time, he decided to put in a piece of toast and would butter it and put some jam on it. Though not a proper breakfast it should be enough to hold him over until they stopped for lunch. "So how are we getting to Diagon Alley?" Neville asked. Judging by how high the sun was up in the sky when he woke up he guessed it was already ten o'clock. He had been thinking to himself that they probably should have left earlier because they had to go into downtown London to get to The Leaky Cauldron.

"An excellent question, Neville. We are going by Floo Powder. You use it by stepping into our fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo Powder down at your feet and speaking clearly the name of the place you want to go. Many places are connected magically and it is called the Floo Network. You can go to any place on the Floo Network you choose to. Remember to enunciate clearly Diagon Alley. Be very specific because if you mispronounce a word it could take you to a different destination then the one you intended to go to. You go first Neville, I'll follow." She told him and gave him a little nudge.

Neville stepped into the fireplace and grabbed a handful of the slightly green powder. His grandmother nodded to him to encourage him to keep going. He threw the green powder at his feet and bright green flames engulfed him. Oddly they did not burn him though they his entire body was covered in them. "Diagon Alley!" he yelled as clearly as he could. The green flames seemed to then propel him up into the fireplace, and before he knew it he was flashing by living rooms and shops and all the places on the Floo Network between him and Diagon Alley. It was slightly disorienting, but also kind of enjoyable knowing he was going to arrive practically in the instant in which he left his homes.

Ever so slightly he began to slow down and then he arrived, spinning in the fireplace of The Leaky Cauldron. Augusta Longbottom had explained to him that the pub was magically enchanted so that the alleyway at the back of the pub ended in what appeared to be a brick wall, but was really a magical concealment of the entrance to Diagon Alley. He hurried out of the fireplace because his grandmother was coming after him. Sure enough after he took his first step out of the fireplace his grandmother appeared. "Well, what do you think of travelling by Floo Powder?" she asked him.

"It was slightly disorienting and almost made me nauseous, but it was also really fun." he replied to her query. Neville looked around the pub. It looked just like any other pub he had ever been too. Tom the landlord and barman of the Leaky Cauldron has a toothless smile and was cleaning a mug. Some of the people in the bar were wearing wizard robes, others suits, and others just jeans and t-shirts. The pub's walls were a deep brown and seemed to suck up all the light in the room. Even though there were candles lit at every table and all over the walls it was still dim lighting in the room. Nothing you could do would make that place bright and happy. That was not what the pub was shooting for; it was a place to come and get drinks and maybe spend the night. Tom wasn't trying to impress anybody with five star qualities.

When Neville Longbottom stepped into the Leaky Cauldron everybody turned and stared at him. He knew they had seen his scar, which was the only reasonable explanation for why they would be staring at a slightly chubby eleven year old boy on his way to get his school supplies for Hogwarts at Diagon Alley. In his opinion that wasn't even a reasonable explanation but for others it was. The whole world knew him by that scar, it wasn't by his blonde hair and blue eyes or his face, and he was always identified by the black mark on his forehead. Most of the time he didn't mind, but when an entire room is staring at you it becomes quite uncomfortable. His grandmother never even looked up at his forehead, she saw him for who he really was. For that he was grateful, yet now he was realizing that to the most of the world he is famous and an icon. He had defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time as a baby; even though he didn't know how he survived he knew people would expect great things out of him.

He could hear a faint murmuring going around the bar now. They were whispering, "it's Neville Longbottom, The Boy Who Lived.", and other things along the same lines. The Boy Who Lived was a title that the wizarding world had chosen to call him. Since he had actually survived being attacked by Voldemort when so many had been destroyed easily gave him an aura of mystery. Nobody knew how he survived, or if they did then nobody had told Neville about it. By all the laws of magic he should be dead; at least that is what logic told him. Yet somehow, some way he was still alive. He did not expect he would ever find out why the killing curse rebounded off of him instead of killing him instantly. Yes, Neville Longbottom was famous, but he was not comfortable in the spotlight. He would have preferred to have nobody notice him.

A couple of the wizards made a line. The one in the front said his name was Dedalus Diggle. He explained how it was such an honor to meet The Boy Who Lived, and Neville shook his hand but it took about a minute before he was able to get it back. Dedalus Diggle was wearing a purple top hat, and Neville was only about four inches shorter than him. Most adults tower over Neville but Dedalus was very short.

Next he met a tall thin man who wore a turban wrapped around his head. He said that his name was Professor Quirrell, and would be teaching him Defense Against the Dark Arts. The thing you first notice upon meeting Quirrell is that he has a terrible stammer. The professor was clearly nervous to be meeting someone famous, and looked like he would be uncomfortable meeting most ordinary wizards and witches as well. "M-my job is to t-t-teach you young Hogwarts st-students how to fight d-d-d-dark wizards, c-creatures, dueling, and m-m-many other things that will help you s-s-survive if you get into a st-st-sticky situation." He shook Neville's hand and oddly his scar started to smart a bit. _Must be a coincidence. _he thought to himself.

Despite Professor Quirrell's stammer and nervousness around him Neville liked him immediately. Most likely because Neville himself was awkward around new people and would occasionally start stuttering himself. It was something he had in common with a person he was going to be seeing at Hogwarts. Which was good; since Neville didn't think he would have very many things in common with most of the professors. "I'll do my best to be a good student professor." he told him. Professor Quirrell simply nodded and walked back to where he was sitting before he got up to introduce himself to Neville.

There was nobody left waiting to meet with him after Professor Quirrell; so his grandmother introduced him to the barman and landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, simply known as tom. He seemed to be a nice fellow, far from hansom with a toothless smile and completely bald. Tom had blue eyes that had a kindly look about them. Yes, he seemed a decent fellow and kept the Leaky Cauldron in good order even if it wasn't fancy.

Then Augusta Longbottom said, "Now that you've met everybody who wanted to introduce themselves we should go to Diagon Alley. That is the reason we are here after all." She grabbed his arm and led him out the back door of the Leaky Cauldron and led into a brick alleyway. The wall at the end of the alley was about fifteen feet tall. But that didn't stop Neville's grandmother for a second. He just watched stunned as she took out her wand and tapped a brick in the middle of the wall. Neville paid attention to which brick she tapped and noted that it was three up and two across. Instantly the brick wall began to turn into an archway that opened up from the brick that she had tapped. The archway was labeled Diagon Alley and was made of what looked to be iron. So this is Diagon Alley…


	3. Chapter 3: Korthold's Wand

Chapter 3: Korthold's Wand

Neville walked into Diagon Alley for the first time in his life, and the very first thing he noticed was a Fanged Frisbee flying towards his head. "Ahhhh!" he yelled, and barely managed to duck out of the way in time. A boy of seven years ran up to him, apologized, and grabbed the Fanged Frisbee. "Wow, got to keep on your toes in this place." Neville was enjoying himself already; despite the fact the Fanged Frisbee had almost decapitated him. He had not always been the bravest, but he did know that worrying about the past got you nowhere. That was one lesson he was forced to learn at an early age.

"Neville, where do you want to go first? If we split up we could get some more done than we could by sticking together." Augusta explained to him. They were walking on a cobblestoned street that was lined with shops of all sorts. There were candy stores, book stores, clothing stores, joke shops, any kind of store you could imagine. Even a place called Knockturn Alley that he saw leading away into a gloomy, evil-looking section. What he was most looking forward to was the wand shop. Ollivander's was known all around London and most of Europe as the best wand shop in existence. Ollivander had been around for what seemed like forever, and he had even made his parents' wands as well as many, many wands before making theirs.

"Grandma, I think maybe if you went to Flourish and Blott's, the Potions place, and maybe to get my robes?" he asked her, he wanted to go to Ollivander's as soon as he good. As well as maybe look at one of the candy shops. A wizard with a bright purple top hat was selling what appeared to be a hat, though it barely resembled one, and claimed to shield you from hexes. Neville highly doubted that it actually worked.

"Flourish and Blott's and your potions supplies I can do, but I need you for Madam Malkin's to make sure everything fits. How about we meet there in an hour? Remember, do not go down Knockturn Alley, or talk to any strangers." she told him sternly. He knew that his grandmother meant business when she used that tone.

"Yes, grandma, I will see you in an hour. And I promise not to talk to strangers or go down Knockturn Alley." he said, trying to reassure her. The truth was that he wouldn't have gone down Knockturn Alley for any amount of money or candy in the world, but he would never admit that to anyone. He wanted to be a Gryffindor, brave, loyal, confident, and above all, like his father Frank. Frank Longbottom, so he had been told, was one of the bravest wizards of his generation. Neville wanted to be just like his dad, he had always been that way.

As his grandmother walked away, Neville started walking with a spring in his step towards the best place in all of Diagon Alley, and what many would say is the most special, Ollivander's. Before long he spotted the wand shop. To his immense surprise there was nothing special about the shop, at least not obviously unique. Just a plain wooden sign at the front of the shop which read Ollivander's in standard black ink. Windows at the front and shelves like those in a library reaching back behind the desk.

Opening the door and entering the shop was a beginning for Neville Longbottom; he knew that it was the first step to becoming a wizard. Acquiring a wand is an art, and wand-lore is guarded very closely by those who know it. There is a saying that the wand chooses the wizard, and wand-makers say that it is true. "I have been expecting you for some time Mr. Longbottom. You are quite well known; so, I have been looking forward to the day I gave you your wand. Step up here, let me see you clearly." The man who said the words was old, with gray hair that was frizzled a little, and not closely groomed. He seemed happy, with a sparkle in his blue eyes. Ollivander wore just a simple white oxford shirt, unbuttoned at the top and with a maroon vest on, also wearing plain black slacks and a smile on his face.

"Yes sir, I have been excited as well. To get a wand, that is." Neville said as he stepped forward so the old man could examine him. He felt the eyes searching him, sizing him up, and trying to decide something about him. With a nod, he walked back into the rows of shelving. Reappearing with a long, thin box, Mr. Ollivander then opened it. A dark red wand about 11 ¾" long was in the center. It looked powerful, Neville thought to himself.

"Go on Mr. Longbottom. Give it a wave." Mr. Ollivander said. Neville took the wand, and he could feel a warm glow was through his body. Somehow, he knew that wand was going to become like a friend to him. From the first moment the wand touched his fingers Neville felt confident, and more assured of himself than he had ever been before. Waving it in a circle, he watched as a set of red and yellow sparks shot out of the end. He thought about them disappearing, and away they went.

"It's…perfect." Neville said. The old man looked at him, then at the wand. Clearly there was something important about this wand.

"Mr. Longbottom, that wand. It is 11 ¾" long, made, of mahogany, and has a dragon heartstring core. But the heartstring, it belonged to one of the most famous dragons that ever lived. Korthold, known simply as the Black Dragon. He reined terror upon the wizards for many years before he was finally killed." he explained to Neville.

"Really, but, is it the right wand for me. A wand that powerful…" he trailed off.

"Yes! It is powerful, but you seem to value it for more than its power. I have been waiting for many years for the right boy or girl to come along that was right for this wand. In my opinion, you are the perfect wizard to carry this wand. This wand is strong, unyielding. Use it wisely." Mr. Ollivander said with a grave tone in his voice.

"I promise I won't abuse it Mr. Ollivander." he said. The wand felt right in his hand, not too thin, not too thick, perfect length. Neville felt as if the wand had been specifically tailored to him personally. Which was absolutely ridiculous of course; the wand was made before he was born.

"That will be fifteen galleons for the wand." Ollivander said. He brought the box over to the desk and set it next to the cash register.

"There you go. Thank you sir, it is an amazing wand." Neville told him truthfully. Pulling out the fifteen gold galleons (that his grandmother had given to him to purchase his wand), he put them on the table. Then he grabbed the box with the wand in it, left the wand shop, and was the happiest boy in the whole wide world.


End file.
